The Class of 1984
by Verthril
Summary: It's been said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Insane Charles and Erik must be to take responsibility for yet another group of extraordinary teens, all after finally confronting their feelings for another. How will they find time for love, caught between teaching lessons inside the classroom and out?
1. Chapter 1

Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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"Did you dye your hair?"

"We all can't look as dashing as you in grey, Erik."

"Wasn't there a time you were more worried over losing it than touching it up?"

Feeling Erik's hand running though his hair, Charles couldn't repress the shiver that slipped down his back, there was just something so...erotic in that touch, intimate in it's own right. The Town Car prowled up the gravel drive, really maybe it was time to see about having it paved. It was the Eighties after all, the estate could use a bit of updating other than in the kitchen.

With moments until the arrival of the newest generation of students at his school, Charles found a comb and straightened his hair. He had to look his best, he was the Headmaster after all. True to word, Erik looked quite dashing dressed in grey, from his suit to the salt and pepper that found its way into his hair. It would be criminal to dye it, it lent him an air wisdom and authority. That Charles found it absurdly sexy was beside the point.

"Are you sure we're ready for this?" Erik asked, they still had a bit of time until the Town Car found its way up the drive.

"Erik, we just spent the last three years travelling the world. I think we've honeymooned long enough, don't you?"

Egypt, the African continent, Europe, they had seen the world together after seeing off their last graduating class. Meant merely as a break, they ended up confronting a truth they had been running from for too long. It had been told by a string of relationships that never lasted, even an engagement called off, but one cold night upon the savannah of some Africa country, a touch lead to a look.

That look had lead to a kiss, and from there they both realized they had been hiding their true feelings behind a friendship that had spanned decades. They had seen each other at their best and worst, seen the other at the very brink of breaking only to pull them back from that fatal edge. If that wasn't love, then love didn't exist, and to hell with any who would tell them otherwise.

The Town Car came to a stop, the driver rushing out to help with the doors that were thrown open in a breach in protocol that flustered the poor man. One look at them and Erik turned to Charles for strength.

"To think I used to call Sean and Alex delinquents, and we found Alex in jail!" Erik hissed.

Watching in horror as one blew a bright pink bubble, Charles could already see a fight to be had over certain rules that the school had. Another had a guitar slung over her back, a reminder to talk about curfews and acceptable volumes of music. They were as a group, sullen, moody, and already forming cliques told by the invisible lines that kept them apart. In a word, teenagers.

"I thought you had a speech?" Erik asked in a whisper.

"They really don't look interested in a speech." Charles replied with a sidelong glance to the teens milling about.

"I liked your speech."

It had been something Charles had practised the night before over a game of chess and a bottle of Scotch. That it had been in their bed was beside the point, but in the harsh light of this new day, he felt a bit of stage fright that he normally didn't suffer from. He had always been a great orator, he'd spoken before congress and received begrudged applause, yet a group of no more than ten teens...

"Do we have to wear uniforms?" The gum chewer asked, a tight and small bubble snapping to punctuate her question.

"No..." Charles began.

"Yes." Erik interrupted.

"I thought we agreed...?" Charles asked, trying to remember back to the conversation the night before.

"...checkmate." Erik whispered, albeit throatily in a reminder of his victory and the prize he had claimed.

"I've been reminded that the policy was agreed upon that uniforms would be, ahem, a requirement and will be provided to you all." Charles said with a cough and a blush, everything else last night had been the spoils of war.

Joining together in their shared suffering, the invisible lines that had been drawn between the teens were forgotten as they groaned as one. Duffles were picked up, knapsacks were slung over their shoulders, and with all the enthusiasm of a forced march they climbed the stairs to what was to be their new home.

"Well I think that went rather well." Erik said with a smirk at the slamming of the door.

"We'll win them over." Charles promised.

Hearing the latch thrown shut, Charles thought to pat his pockets for the keys he hadn't thought he'd need. Apparently the teens were a bit spirited that he thought as he came up empty.

"Really Charles..." Erik groaned, turning about and waving at the door with a magicians flare.

Blushing out of a bit of embarrassment, those years away from the school they had lived their lives so very ordinarily that a simple trick like that had been forgotten until just then. Hand in hand they walked up the stairs after their charges.

"Could I entice you with a game of Chess while we let them settle?" Charles asked, it was an innocent enough question if anyone over heard it.

"The study?" Erik asked, though his voice belied his true question.

"Perhaps where we enjoyed our game last night?"

His smile was genuine as Erik leaned in for a chaste kiss to the cheek, a promise of more that could be written off as a European carryover if caught. The honeymoon might over, but that didn't mean that they'd let the romance slip away. Too many years had already been wasted for that.

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A/N: Just a Charles and Erik drabble that popped into my mind, one where the bullet had been but a scratch.


	2. Chapter 2

Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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"I missed you last night."

Strong hands took his shoulders as he showered, hands he took in his own and guided to his hair. Erik was quick to catch on, massaging the lather and working his fingers through the sudsy strands. Charles felt the tension bleed out of his shoulders, found support against the cold tiles and shivered as Erik denied him the hot spray of the shower. Arms fell about him, held him in their embrace, fingers trailing down his side...his hip...further...

"Oh god Erik..."

A scolding whisper brushed his ear, a tutting of tongue against teeth chastising him for being too loud. They were supposed to be having a meeting of sorts, at least that would be the white lie they'd tell the students if caught and questioned. The risk was an aphrodisiac, driven mad by the time they spent apart trying to resume their old lives if for the only sake of appearances.

Pressing his cheek against the cool tile, Charles clenched his teeth tight together in his suffering of Erik's cruel game to keep quiet even as he sought to hear him grunt, gasp, and...

"I missed you too." Erik whispered, his touch turned slow and gentle having won his game.

Flushed and weary, Charles let himself be guided to the spray, lost himself to the roving of hands playing at bathing him. Their love, but just confessed for all the years their friendship had lasted, it was measured out in moments like this and twice hidden away by their circumstances and the masks they wore. Were they to have to hide just who and what they were from the world for every moment of their lives...

"Hush, you're too tense, I'm here..." Erik promised with a kiss to his shoulder.

Holding Erik's hands in his and letting himself believe their entwined embrace was that of the comfort that came at the ending of their day, his bed was too big last night and for all his blankets it was too cold. His room was too quiet with only his breath and the beat of his heart to keep him company.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this." Charles admitted.

Erik's laugh was that of a man seeing the hypocrisy of another, only a day before he had asked that very question. Finding a smile in his foolishness, Charles would have to live by the words he had spoken. _They had honeymooned long enough_.

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"One of us has to go first."

"I seem to recall your name being upon the gate."

Erik smiled at Charles in that way that always had him accused of being infuriatingly smug. Usually unflappable, ever confident and assured of himself, to see Charles even a smidgen bit nervous was something he could take perverse delight in. If he thought to take a moment to compose himself behind the frosted french doors of the veranda, well, Erik was going to have none of that. With a wave of his hand they opened to reveal the students they had kept waiting, all dressed in their school uniforms that had been supplied.

The girls outnumbered the boys four strong to their three , those same invisible lines keeping them apart. Some looked bored, a couple nervous, and he thought to tell the troublemakers from their state of dress alone.

"Mister LeBeau, please button your shirt and find your tie. Miss Lee, find your jacket and might I remind you that a lady crosses her legs when sitting. Miss Blaire, I think I shouldn't have to ask of you which of the above I expect." Erik said crisply in greeting.

Heavy sighs and rolled eyes met his request as the singled out students did as asked. Watching to see who laughed or looked on in sympathy, Erik took his read of the rest. Playing to their strengths, he had always been the disciplinary one in his relationship with Charles, leaving his friend to play to his own strengths. That wasn't to say Charles was soft, if anything his sharped tongued scoldings cut all the deeper and hurt all the worse, and he himself would be a liar to say he hadn't earned a few of those over the years.

"Mister Dukes? Thank you. Miss Sinclair, a pleasure. Mister Guthrie, yes, and you may put your hand down. And that would leave you to be Miss Munroe."

Sometime last night Charles and he had a discussion on a few issues that had been raised only after meeting their students for the first time. They would leave the children to do with their hair as they pleased, if only because they didn't wish to alienate Miss Munroe over her mohawk.

"Thank you Mister Lensherr. Now then, I would like to formally welcome you to the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters." Charles said in greeting, finding his moment for introductions.

Blank stares bore into them, the silence dragging on as Charles likely expected some form of reply. Erik was a second shy of cutting in when he was saved by Miss Lee raising her hand, Charles looked like a man drowning who had been thrown a line.

"Miss Lee?"

"So, like, everything is normal about this school except for us right? Cause I mean so far this is the same as Beverly Hills Prep for me."

That they had come from different circumstance and standing was something only Charles and himself knew, but in her question Miss Lee had just hinted at her own. There was a whistle from Mister Dukes while both Miss Sinclair and Mister Guthrie looked on her not in anything so jealous as envy, but with the eyes of those who knew what it was to go without. The rest seemed indifferent in their own ways.

"Firstly and foremost, yes, this is a school. But it is also meant as somewhere you can feel safe to express yourself..." Charles began.

"As a mutant." Erik cut in as he saw those self same troublemakers about to go unbuttoning their jackets and shirts.

He had chosen his words carefully, out of any of them Erik knew what it meant to be made a monster. A word he and Charles had once been proud of had been taken and twisted, turned into a slur and thrown about full of hate. That some winced had been his intent, that some looked on him stubbornly did his heart good to see, and those that stood expressionless intrigued him.

"Why don't you get to know another a bit better while Mister Lensherr and I see to fixing some breakfast. Then perhaps we might get around to a tour and outline your first weeks lessons." Charles said as he played the peacemaker he was so skilled at.

Letting him lead, Erik waited until he was past the door and felt the weight of so many eyes on him to give a flick of his finger and flex his might. The doors shut with nary a click of the latch, and only then did he let out a weary breath that was echoed in Charles.

"We have our work cut out for us." Charles said softly in the safe quiet of what was his home.

"Cooking breakfast for that many teenagers, wherever shall we find the time for a tour after that?" Erik asked in mock horror.

A chuckle became a laugh, and Charles's smile was his reward for earning the ire of the troublesome students. Alone for the moment, they walked hand in hand, and as they reached the kitchen Charles surprised him with a swift pull past the threshold. Thrown against the wall and held there, Erik surrendered to the kiss that stole his breath. Breakfast bought them some time, and it was time they would make good use of.

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	3. Chapter 3

Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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Loosening his tie that felt like a noose around his neck, Remy had to admit that maybe the uniforms weren't so bad after all with a look to the ladies in theirs. Rich girl was back to sitting on the fieldstone wall of the veranda looking utterly bored, blowing a bubble now and again, her chin resting on her knees in that way that had her in trouble with Mister Lensherr.

Farm boy and the pretty little redhead were just a couple of shy kids far away from home for the first time, Mister Guthrie and Miss Sinclair, and it was hard to tell who was nursing the crush for whom with how they stumbled through some awkward small talk. Alison sat at a table drumming away to music only she could hear. He had that pleasure last night at least, getting to know the rocker chick who had some good taste in music.

"You a cheerleader, you look like you did some cheerleading."

And then there was Fred Dukes making a pass at Rich girl. That had been a long flight, sharing seats with the Texan and finding out they weren't just bragging that everything was bigger down there. A walking mass of muscle with a love of football and boxing alike, Dukes was a guy who looked like he could take a hit. Rich girl made an inarticulate noise of disgust as she looked at him.

"Is that some kind of pick up line?"

"Just an honest question." Fred answered, completely shameless as he crossed his arms in a way that had his jacket nearly burst trying to contain his brawny frame.

That just left the enigmatic beauty with the mohawk that he only knew as Miss Munroe. Having a history of petty theft himself, he could appreciate how expertly she had stolen his breath the very moment he laid eyes on her. The uniform didn't do her justice, not like the studded black leather she had shown up in the day before. There was an air of danger around her that he was helpless against, drawn to the flickering flame and only seeing it as something beautiful.

"If I say you intrigue me, would you be kind enough to tell me your name my fair mademoiselle?"

It wasn't anything as vulgar as a line if it was said with sincerity, not that he hadn't used it before, it was just that this time he had truthfully spoken the words. The first crack in her cool facade was her smile, small as it was. Her gaze lost to the horizon drew back and fell upon him, vivid eyes of blue made all the more startling below her curious brows of white. A sudden warm breeze brought back his breath she had now stolen not once, but twice.

"Ororo."

"Only once before I ever hear a name so suiting of such a beautiful lady, and hers was Venus." Remy replied with his newfound breath.

"You are an incorrigible flatterer Monsieur LeBeau."

"Please, call me Remy."

A slap interrupted their introduction, his eyes following his beautiful Ororo's. Rich girl was a set of squared shoulders beneath her jacket, her skirt swaying to and fro above legs angrily stalking off leaving behind an unrepentant Fred Dukes looking to enjoy her parting even as he rubbed his reddened cheek. Most everyone else sat watching the show, though the beauty whose company he was blessed with looked on him with a hint of humour in her wondrous eyes.

"Perhaps you should give lessons?"

"It not be mine to teach what the Lord blessed me with."

The day grew warmer with her laugh, though that just might have been him. Regardless, his jacket was thrown to a chair and he would suffer the wrath of Mister Lensherr just to be comfortable in the company of the lady he found himself so smitten with.

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Slammed doors and teenagers went hand in hand, that was one thing Charles had learnt early on in his years of teaching.

"Just tell me that nothing's on fire." Erik urged with a weary sigh, it hadn't been much more than twenty minutes since he and Charles had left them alone.

Smiling and shaking his head, Charles heard the whispered fragments of everything that happened from the angry swirl of thoughts radiating from the young girl. Slipping her a harmless suggestion that she might like a cup of tea, her angry steps grew closer and closer until...

"Just when I was about to ask for a volunteer to help hurry things along." Charles greeted with a cheerful smile that hid his tiny bit of skullduggery of the mind.

Miss Lee looked from him to Erik and back again. Breakfast was half prepped, and Charles stood toiling away over another batch of sausage and bacon and all the hearty fare that the boys would likely devour. Rolling her eyes, she joined them and surprised him by tackling the dishes already piling up in the sink. Hanging her jacket on a cabinet knob and rolling up her sleeves, a glance found her an apron as the sink filled.

To see Erik asking him if he had a hand in her choice of task was an amusing sight, his fingers pressed to his temple in a parody of his own gift. Charles brushed his mind to voice his reply, _I had nothing to do with it._

"Is there anything special you'd like, just a bit of my thanks for helping?" Charles asked of Miss Lee as the dishes began piling up in the drying rack.

He could feel her surprise radiate off her and pictured her shock, all hidden behind her stiff back as she cleaned a pan. He felt just a bit guilty as he witnessed her thoughts, flashes of painful memories from her time at Beverly Hills Prep. She too had been born into wealth only to be ostracised because of it, running away from it just to be seen slumming with the peasants, _poor little rich girl_.

"Maybe just a cup of tea then?"

Her head bobbed at the sink, carrying on with her help in silence. A touch at his shoulder begged for answers as Erik reached to the spice rack that hung over the stove, a chaste kiss shared in secret and their nearness.

"Sorry Charles, I needed the rosemary." Erik said in feigned apology.

Setting the kettle to boil, just maybe the three of them could enjoy a cup before breakfast was served.

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"I got ten bucks that says none of you can budge me from this spot, anyone? C'mon! Hey, what about you Guthrie?"

Hearing his name called, Sam looked up from where he'd been sitting with Rahne keeping one another company. Never having been out of Kentucky, listening to her talk of Scotland had made his day.

"I don't got ten bucks." Sam admitted, at least not ten bucks he could spare, his momma had raided their rainy day jar to make sure he had some cash on him for the trip up.

"I got you covered homme." Remy called from where he and Ororo had been watching the events play out.

"I don't want your money."

"You not be getting my money, it just be a bet between Dukes and moi. You just be the horse I be backing, neh?"

"Might as well hand over the cash now LeBeau, because there ain't no one that's moving me if I don't wanna be moved." Fred laughed, undoing his jacket and shirt in a flash of toned flesh as he got serious.

Feeling like he got in over his head, Sam looked to Rahne and saw a flash of something wild in her eyes. A low, throaty growl rumbled from her chest, enough to give him a bit of gumption to go and try and shut up the braggart out on the lawn. Getting to his feet and stripping off his jacket, he handed it to Rahne and blushed as she held it tight to her chest with a deep breath of clear enjoyment. Undoing a few buttons of his shirt and untucking it, he walked on up to Dukes.

"I don't wanna hurt ya." Sam said as he looked up at the brawny boy.

"You won't." Fred replied with a smug grin, rolling his neck with a crack of cartilage.

Throwing his weight into it, just like he'd been taught on down in the coal mines his pappy worked at, Sam slammed into the loud Texan only to feel like he'd just charged at a wall. Fred hadn't even braced himself, just standing as casual as could be.

"That's right Guthrie, this is what I can do. Feel free to show me what you can." Fred said with a hearty chuckle, reading the moments shock on the other boys face.

"I already told ya I don't wanna hurt you." Sam repeated, feeling his cheeks burn out of knowing he'd been played.

"And I already told you ya won't." Fred said in all seriousness, some of the humour draining out of his voice.

All it took to make his choice was seeing Rahne looking a mess pissed off for his sake, it wasn't just for him he was doing this but her, just like in all those stories his momma used to read about knights and their ladies. Walking away from Fred and ignoring the taunts and jeers, he dug down and found what made him who he was, a humble upbringing that had him hating a bully and a twist of genetics.

The blood in his veins burned hot as he roared, calling on what his momma had called a gift, flying head first at Fred at breakneck speed. He was about to shut him up and teach him a bit of humility all at once, at least until he felt strong arms catch him in their embrace. Shocked for a moment, the smug smirk that looked down on him was all the fuel he needed, forcing himself to knock the boy from his place.

"Told ya none of ya could move me if I don't wanna be moved." Fred laughed loudly over the roar of Guthrie's blasting field.

"You so confidant in that Dukes, what say we make it double or nothing, my man Guthrie and me against you?" Remy called out from his place back at the veranda.

"I don't care if it's all of you, no ones gonna move me if I don't want to be moved!"

Yet as Sam looked at the older boy who had bet on him, Remy reminded him of the card sharks his pappy always warned him about. He had a trick up his sleeve that was for sure, and seeing a deck of cards pulled out wasn't the least bit surprising. But he had somebody else's money riding on him so all he could do was keep it up until that trick came.

"Pick a card chere, I show you just a little of what I can do." Remy whispered to Ororo, taking her card only to see it was a Queen.

Plucking it from her fingers and holding it deftly between his own, a flick had it flying at Fred's feet in a flash of purple and the screeching hiss of a firecracker tearing into the sky. The explosion was lost in whatever gift Sam evoked to fly, but the effect was immediate. For all his bragging, it didn't matter what gift Fred was using if he didn't have any ground to stand on. Both him and Sam vanished in the blink of an eye.

Remy really couldn't have cared who won in the end, it was just a way to pass the time until their teachers came back. But to see Rahne yipping and howling in victory, just maybe he could smile at that just as his lady Ororo was.

"Could someone kindly explain to me just what is going on?" Mister Lensherr demanded in a resounding voice, his entrance lost to the explosion.

He wasn't alone of course, the Professor was present and so was the little Rich girl who looked as though she had been drafted to help with breakfast. Pressing a kiss to Ororo's delicate hand, he got to his feet and met the man whose question had as of yet gone unanswered.

"Just a friendly wager, and I think I teach Mister Dukes a lesson he won't soon forget." Remy said as pleasantly as possible, smiling up to his elder.

And even if neither Mister Lensherr or Professor Xavier were smiling, to see Miss Lee make it up for the both of them was worth whatever his punishment would be. If there was one thing he hated, it was to see a lady look sad or severe, to see her frown under the weight of whatever bad luck life had piled upon her.

"In that case then Mister LeBeau, I'm sure you won't mind if I teach my own." Erik said with a grim smile.

"I be here to learn." Remy replied with a bow to his elder, excusing himself with a muttering of manners his Tante had taught him to take the tray Miss Lee had been holding.

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"Smug little prick." Erik ground out between clenched teeth, following along after Charles who was seeking out their wayward students.

"He seems to remind me of someone." Charles chuckled.

"You're not implying I was ever that smug are you?" Erik asked in mock hurt.

"That would imply you've grown out of that habit."

For everything he wanted to do to Charles in that moment, Erik settled with a flick to his ear that he instantly regretted. Wincing in shared pain, his was the phantom torment of the foremost telepath in the world.

"Oh don't you go start with your mind games Charles, I'm not in the mood." Erik hissed, just maybe a bit too petulant after a moments reflection.

"I'll save them for tonight then." Charles teased with the briefest flash of what he had in mind.

"And just whatever do you have in mind, my dear Headmaster?"

"I think just maybe if you could postpone young Mister LeBeau's lesson, than perhaps we could enjoy an evening out. I'm sure our charges could find enough distractions for themselves that we could enjoy a nice quiet dinner together."

Everything left unsaid was a whisper of the imagination, Charles was a man who could truly be alone in a crowd. Sometimes Erik wondered just what it was that everyone saw when his love sought to be a bit naughty with his gift all for their sake, whatever it was he didn't need worry over a touch or a kiss or how close he held his love throughout their date.

"Oh, there they are..." Charles interrupted, "Come along boys, breakfast is served!"

Shaking his head in sheer disbelief, Erik watched the two boys quicken their pace and overtake them. Theirs had been a long walk back told by the torn lawn and a shattered tree, and to see Charles smile so infuriatingly, Erik really wished he could retake those words he had spoken earlier.

"Well, nothing is on fire."

"And for that Charles, I expect dessert."

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	4. Chapter 4

Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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Sitting on her bed just killing time until they went to Manhattan, Jubilee listened to the music that floated down the hall. She'd heard it last night too, it was Alison, the cool rocker chick that didn't look like she had time for anyone other than Remy...who was also cool, and maybe just a bit of an ass.

She saw them last night when she'd been sneaking out for a glass of water and maybe just a peek. They hadn't even really been talking to another or anything, they just kinda listened to the music and filled up the time between songs with offhand comments or whatever thoughts just needed a voice. Staying just long enough to sneak a few songs before she finally got her glass of water, she decided then they were the cool kids, them and Ororo.

Flopping down on her bed with a weary sigh, money only ever bought the kind of friends that stuck around just long enough to get what they wanted. That was probably why her parents didn't have a lot of friends, or as her mother would say, _'We don't have friends, we have associates'_. It was a bad joke and too true at the same time, the Lee's and their bank the hottest commodity on Wall Street and Santa Monica alike.

That was also why hearing a knock at the door both annoyed her and hurt just a bit with how lonely she was feeling, because it wasn't the kind of knock she expected from the teachers or any of the guys...meaning it could only be a couple of people. It wasn't Alison because the music was accompanied by her guitar, and she didn't think it was Ororo because she was so obviously one of the cool kids.

"What do you want Rahne?"

The door opened a little too slowly in that sheepish way someone did when they weren't sure if they were actually invited. So far she didn't have a handle on Rahne, the girl seemed too much like a caged animal, all it'd take was one poke too many to find out she had fangs and claws. Other than that she liked her, or at least she didn't have any reason to dislike her.

"Uh, can you tie a necktie? Sam can't." Rahne asked as she kept the door between them.

Rolling onto her belly to stare at Rahne, Jubilee wondered just what the heck Sam needed with a necktie. It was enough to have her follow along and find out. Rahne was looking like she was out for a date, what with the dress and all. Shrugging it off as maybe just that, both Sam and Rahne looked like they were getting that special kind of friendly with another.

Knocking at the door Rahne lead her on up to, Jubilee waited, and waited. Finally the door opened up, and Sam stood there in a poorly fitting suit with a tie hanging around his neck left undone.

"Fuck, don't tell me...that really is your Sunday Best?" Jubilee asked.

"Nah, we didn't go to no fancy church like that. Just wore this for weddings and..."

Funerals, he didn't even have to say it. Rahne's dress made a lot more sense now, it wasn't anything any girl would ever pick out for a date. It was just probably the fanciest thing she had to wear, well, except for a pretty little cross that had family heirloom written all over it.

Stomping over to the closet, everything else in there was just jeans and T-shirts and a couple of pairs of cheap running shoes. Pressing her head to the wall, Jubilee didn't even want to go find out what Rahne had in her closet.

"Well, I know what we're all doing tonight." Jubilee mumbled without looking at either Sam or Rahne.

"I ain't one to accept charity. I might not got much, but what I got is plenty good enough for me." Sam protested, his thoughts clearly catching up to hers.

Glaring at him, she noticed Rahne was looking a little less shy and maybe a bit offended herself. Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, it was a fight she couldn't win. People had their pride, and from the looks of things it was all these two had that they really put any value in. Sighing in defeat, Jubilee stalked up to Sam and snatched the ends of his tie, tying it in a Full Windsor just like she would for her father.

"In case you didn't notice Hayseed, we're all charity cases here, even me. They didn't want freaks at Beverly Hills Prep, so here I am!"

Feeling their eyes on her back as she stormed off, she was used to it by now. It was the same no matter where she went, people getting friendly with her just because they wanted something, or everyone else thinking she was trying to buy their friendship. Slamming her door and flopping down on her bed, after she was done crying she'd have to fix her makeup, but that was nothing new at all for her.

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"I wonder if getting rid of all the doors would stop all this slamming." Erik asked, adjusting his necktie as he looked on his visage in the mirror.

It wasn't that it was the slamming that bothered him, it was all the drama that surely had to be the reason for it all in the first place. It was an age old debate between them, one he knew the counter argument to by heart.

"But that would only mask the problem, they'll simply find another outlet for their frustration."

"Chin chin, that was spot on." Charles quipped from the bar, fixing them a little something for the road, it wasn't as if they were driving.

Taking the offered martini and putting it back in a single swallow, Erik caught the olive between his teeth and leaned in to his love for a kiss.

"You know I hate olives." Erik accused in their nearness.

Smiling with the same cheeky grin as always, Charles quickly kissed him once more, only then stripping clean the toothpick to enjoy his favourite little garnish. Never once in public had he forgotten just how Erik took his martini, or really anything about the man, but in private he was free to be cute when he wanted to be.

"Do I look as if I've put on weight?" Charles inquired as he looked at himself in the mirror.

"And now you're fishing for compliments." Erik muttered, even if he did have an appreciative look at the man who had won his heart.

"It's just that this suit is feeling a bit...snug."

That Charles was flirting so much meant he was trying to distract himself from whatever the drama of the slammed door was all about. Playing his part, Erik walked up and took his shoulders in hand for a massage, all Charles's anxiety told by the tension he found in the knotted mess of muscle.

"Moira used to do this for you." Erik whispered, a breath bringing the alluring cologne Charles wore.

"Thank you."

Carry overs and hand me downs, all the things they remembered of all their failed relationships that had made them special in their own way. They didn't have to be jealous of those past loves, if anything they were thankful and just a bit guilty at realizing their mistakes repeated again and again. But as the french said, _c'est la vie_.

"Oh that's good." Charles laughed, and at once Erik realized why.

"It would serve Mister LeBeau right if I could reveal that I am perfectly fluent in French, and don't you dare tip him off."

"I wouldn't dream of it, in fact you must make sure I'm there for it."

To everyone who thought Charles a veritable Saint, they didn't know him as he did, he nor Raven. She had grown up with the man and as they said, she knew where all the bodies were buried. Resting his chin upon his love's shoulder, utterly thankful to feel the tension bleed away, Erik held Charles close and thought ahead to their date.

"I wonder which we'll see accepted first, your Dream, or our love?" Erik whispered, enjoying the welcome warmth of Charles against his cheek as he stood there.

"I hope we don't have to choose between them."

Hating his tears, Erik was far too cynical to think either would ever happen, but for Charles alone he would carry that torch.

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"Go away!"

Standing out in the hall, Fred caught LeBeau glancing out from a room two doors down. Wondering if it was Ororo's or Alison's, the man had moves, and just maybe he was a bit jealous of how smooth the Cajun was. He sure as hell wasn't smooth, so there was no point in even pretending. Throwing open the door completely uninvited, it was time to play to his strengths.

"What part of '_Go the Fuck Away_' don't you understand!?" Jubilee shrieked, throwing a pillow at him.

There wasn't any point in being subtle either, so he just walked right up to the bed and knelt down with her, taking her into his arms all while ignoring how she fought him. She couldn't be more than five foot in heel against his six foot four.

"I read between the lines cheerleader." Fred whispered, holding her to his chest and feeling her shake and sob.

The music got louder down the hall, loud enough to drown out Miss Lee's crying. Down the road he'd have to find out who he owed for that, but he was plenty thankful for it just then. It meant he could say some things he didn't want anyone hearing, present company excepted.

"You want to know what I'm running from? A name, one that stuck even after I lost all the weight, the Blob." Fred confessed, one he didn't know he had the strength to make twice no matter how hard he hit the gym.

She probably had enough names she hated, the kind that had been whispered behind her back or spat in her face, sometimes he was glad he just had the one.

"Yeah, that's right, I was the fat kid. Wouldn't know it to look at me right? Heavy Metal saved my life."

She was a mess and so was his shirt, compliments of tears, snot and runny mascara. The thing was he could see beyond all that, and what he saw he liked. Habits were a son of a bitch to break, and getting hurt was one of the worst habits of them all. It was all there in how she flinched from the knock at her door. Proving his time at the gym wasn't just for the Gun Show, hefting up Jubilee he walked her off to the door.

"We're sorry."

Where there was Guthrie there was probably Sinclair, and opening the door, sure enough he found the two out in the hall looking every kind of timid. The thing was he remembered them dressed a little differently the last time he saw them, not in just plain Jane jeans and T's.

"Shopping?" Jubilee asked, her voice an awful hiccup leftover from all her crying.

"If you're buying." Rahne smiled, her own eyes red rimmed and puffy.

Jubilee eagerly nodded, clenching her eyes tight against any fresh tears and forcing a smile. As he found her looking up at him, Fred threw her a smirk and looked down at the mess she'd made of his shirt.

"How about ya buy me a dog and we call it even, I hear you ain't been to New York if you haven't had their street meat." Fred offered, but her smile was all the thanks he needed.

Heavy Metal at the gym might have saved his life, but it was a cheerleader who had kept him motivated along the way. For her alone he took their team to the championship, giving her a reason to cheer at every game.

"Hot dogs for everyone, my treat."

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End file.
